


Keep the Fires Burning

by kribban



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Christmas, Gen, New Orleans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: Jake's Dad asks him to partake in a Holodeck program with him.
Relationships: Benjamin Sisko & Jake Sisko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: Star Trek Ships Advent Calender 2019





	Keep the Fires Burning

Jake brought his notebook everywhere he went. 

In a way, he reflected sadly, it had filled the place that Nog had once occupied in his life. Growing up on Deep Space Nine had seemed like one long adventure. Every moment he hadn't been in school (or sharing a meal with his father) had been spent on the Promenade or in some dark corner of the station with Nog. It had been an eventful childhood, the best thing that could have happened to him after losing his mom. 

But now, he was a grown-up. Nog was on Earth and well on his way to becoming a Starfleet officer and Jake was using all the time that had been freed up to work on his writing. He was going to become an author one day, and an author never let an opportunity for inspiration slip away.

He loved observing a scene, writing down the details in his notebook and making up backstories for the people he saw. It was like the connection between his brain and hand was shorter when he used a pencil and paper than when he used a PADD and stylus. Maybe he was just imagining it, or maybe Dr. Bashir would give him a scientific explanation if he asked him about it. 

Tonight Jake was bringing his notebook to the Holodeck. His father had asked him – nicely – to partake in a program with him, but he hadn't said a thing about what kind of program. Jake had tried to pry the information out of him, but his father had just smiled knowingly. 

”I'm getting better at dealing with reporters, Jake,” his father had said and kissed him on the forehead. ”Promise you won't be late?”

Jake put on a light jacket, as instructed, and arrived at Quark's with three minutes to spare and found the barman busy. It was always crowded lately and Jake thought about what Nog had told him before he left. (”War is very good for business.”) 

Quark barely looked up from pouring. ”Holosuite three.”

”My dad-” Jake stopped in his tracks. Quark had a wreath of holly on his head. ”My dad's here already?”

”Uh-huh,” Quark mumbled and placed a red drink on a serving tray next to what seemed to be two cups of mulled wine. ”I'm telling you, it was easier when the Cardassians were in control of this place and I only had the Cardassian holidays to cater for. Now it's Christmas, Passover, Kot'Baval, Peldor Festival; the list goes on and on and on and on.” 

Jake's eyes lingered on the mulled wine that looked delicious. Maybe he'd sneak a cup later if his father didn't keep him too long. A little bit of alcohol could really fuel creativity. ”It sounds to me like you're earning a good profit, Quark.”

”That is the upside,” Quark grinned toothily and picked up the tray. ”Now, if you'll excuse me, I have hoomans waiting for their little taste of home.”

As Jake made his way over to the holosuites he studied the patrons in the bar. A few of the humans were dressed up and some of them had plates with various Earth-dishes associated with the Christmas-season. 

Celebrating Christmas far from Earth during a dangerous time where only the tastes of home could conjure up beloved memories from childhood. Yes, this would make a great short story! He was too late to submit it to the Federation news service for their Christmas edition, but maybe next year...

Jake felt a rush of excitement at the new idea that had come to him, like gifted from a Muse. If Dad didn't keep him too long he could start writing it tonight. A Modern Christmas Tale, by Jake Sisko!

But first, he had to get through his father's holo program, whatever it was. 

He made his way over to Holosuite three and asked the computer for admittance. The doors opened and treated Jake to a sight he hadn't seen in years.

St. James Parish. Nighttime. The warm glow from a long line of bonfires lit along the levees. His jaw dropped.

”Jake! You're right on time!” 

His father stepped out from the crowd, dressed in what counted as a winter jacket in New Orleans. He was holding two cups and pressed one of them into Jake's hands. 

”Milk punch?” Jake said hopefully and took a sip. Cafe au lait. He hadn't had Cafe au lait since... He couldn't remember how long ago it had been. Once he had discovered Klingon coffee, he hadn't looked back. 

Dad laughed, looking more at ease than he'd done all year. ”You're well on your way to becoming a man, Jake, but you're not there yet.”

Jake was seventeen and had already had his first drink, but he was smart enough to know his father didn't need to know _everything_.

He took another sip of Cafe au lait and looked around. The doors had shut behind him, leaving the two of them fully immersed in the illusion. 

It was just like he remembered it.

The river stretched out for what seemed to be miles and was illuminated by pyramid-shaped bonfires as far as the eye could see. ”It's pretty realistic,” he admitted.

”This simulation was designed by the New Orleans tourism board,” his father said with a wink. ”You'll find that the... less picturesque elements have been carefully edited out.”

Jake knew exactly what his dad was referring to. The drunk tourists, the littering... If he closed his eyes he could almost picture his grandfather's disapproving look. 

Every Christmas Eve, as far back as Jake could remember, the four of them – he, mom, dad, and grandpa - had taken a leisurely stroll to see the string of lights that were the bonfires welcoming Papa Noel. The trek would surely have felt like miles to Jake, but all he could remember was being excited at the fires and the masses of happy people. 

And then, in the early hours of Christmas morning, they had ended up at Grandpa's restaurant for a home-cooked Reveillon meal. 

Christmas in New Orleans had been nothing short of magical, but Jake hadn't realized that until he'd moved away. 

He slipped his hand under his father's arm as they started walking along the river, sipping their coffees as they followed the crowd. ”We should call Grandpa, wish him a Merry Christmas.”

”We'll call him tomorrow, once the guests have all gone home,” his father said. ”You know he's always busy this time of year.” His smile faltered and he patted Jake's hand. ”I'm sorry I can't take you home for Christmas. I really want to. Some day.” 

The notebook didn't burn in Jake's pocket like it usually did. There would be time for writing later, but there was something to be said about just experiencing the moment. ”That's okay, Dad. This is close enough.”


End file.
